Page 48 of The Reality of Wanting Him (Love Without Labels #1)

LIAM

L osing my mom at ten years old felt like the world cracked in half.

At the time, it felt like my dad and I were stranded on the wrong side of life without her.

It was a slow, excruciating kind of pain, one that built and built as she grew weaker and weaker until it finally swallowed her whole. And then, just like that, she was gone.

We knew it was coming, but knowing didn’t make it hurt any less. Nothing prepared us for that kind of loss. The grief, the absence, the helplessness of it all—knowing that nothing we did could have changed the outcome, that no amount of love or bargaining could have bought us more time.

But at least I understood it. Understood losing her to something no one could fight forever. Even if I fucking hated cancer with every fiber of my being, I could wrap my head around what was happening. I had time to process it.

None of it was her fault. She fought. She held on as long as she could, for me, for my dad. And ultimately, it wasn’t her choice to leave. Losing her was like a slow-burning fire we all saw coming but were powerless to stop .

Losing Blake was like a sudden, violent explosion—unexpected and over before I could make sense of the wreckage.

Because while I’m positive my mom would have never left if she had a choice, Blake did. He made a choice.

And it wasn’t me.

Well, he wouldn’t have chosen me if he wasn’t in a blind dating situation with an ultimatum to push him to date me. A man.

Losing someone to lies and deception, to the reality that I was never the first choice from the start? That I was just a means to an end, or a loophole? This is a different kind of pain. One that feels like it’s clawing its way through my chest, hollowing me out from the inside.

I was so sure about us. So sure he was my future, that he was it for me.

I let myself believe that what we had was real.

That I’d found my person. I like him so much.

I love him, and I thought I made it clear.

He said the same words back to me, even if I said them first. But the second his mother’s words sank in, and I had to question what I really meant to him, it felt like the ground was ripped out from under me.

Now, I’m waking up alone in my bed. Again.

When I thought I would be waking up next to my husband.

We should be wrapped up together while he asks for five more minutes.

But he isn’t here. It’s just me and my broken heart that won’t allow me to focus on anything other than how much I miss what I thought we had.

Even though Blake was only here for three days, I’d built an entire life in my head of our future.

Working together to expand the farm with the money we made from the show.

Hanging out with the chickens and building them what would probably have been a chicken castle more so than a coop, knowing Blake.

Drinking coffee together on the front porch, cooking together in the kitchen, and falling asleep together in our bed .

But, obviously, he’s not here. It’s the third day of waking up without hearing a word from him.

He’s going to be asleep for hours still, on his fancy mattress, in his expensive condo, with all his money. He’ll probably find a wife soon, just like his mother wants, and he’ll forget all about his bi experiment with me.

I go through the motions of my morning routine, but my mind always drifts back to thoughts of Blake.

I’ve been throwing myself into work, trying to bury the pain and heartbreak, but it’s no use.

I’ve made a list of things to fix that don’t actually need fixing, cleaned things that weren’t dirty, and completed chores twice just to stay busy.

But even working from sunup to sundown hasn’t allowed my thoughts to stray from him.

Nothing helps, and nothing makes it stop.

The hardest part of my days is feeding the damn chickens.

The spot we got engaged, where he proposed to me . Was it just so he’d have a guaranteed yes and get his money?

My mind spins as I enter the gate to their yard, stuck on that proposal that felt so sincere, and the way he’d refer to himself as their daddy.

I haven’t had the heart to tell the chickens yet that it’s just me again.

The thought alone makes my throat tighten when I imagine speaking the words out loud.

I know they don’t care, but his supposed love for them was infectious, and has me feeling like they really were his children, even after such a short time.

I clutch the feed bucket a little tighter as I scatter the grain.

They, of course, don’t know that anything has changed.

They still run up to me, excited to eat and be let out for the day.

Blake probably isn’t even someone they remember.

But in such a short time, he’s taken over every inch of this farm for me.

This whole place reminds me of him, and before I can stop it, my vision blurs and tears start falling.

I can’t believe I have any left in me after the last three days, but lo and behold, here they are.

I try to swipe them away, but they won’t stop.

This has happened every time I’ve come over here.

It’s inevitable, the pain is so fucking deep, so raw, that I can’t hold myself together even during normal tasks.

I really thought he loved me. I believed that he chose me because he wanted to be with me. He was that good at lying. I couldn’t even see the deception.

Every time I try to reason with myself that it must have become real for him at some point—that he couldn’t fake the emotion he put into our relationship, the intimacy we shared—his mother’s harsh words come back to me in full force.

“He has no real direction in his life, so he just follows whatever path is laid out for him at any given time.”

I dab my eyes with my shirt and realize just how much I've been crying. I guess I should head back to the house to eat something and change. I think I need a minute.

I’m so mad at myself about it too. I’d tried so hard to keep my guard up this time, until I was absolutely sure.

But he made me believe he wanted this as badly as I did.

I finally let myself think that I could have the kind of love my parents had.

I even told him that. I confided in him.

But this whole time, it had been an act, a way for him to make sure I said yes so that he could get his money.

Am I just a complete fool to believe that any of what we had was real? I must be.

Thoughts of my past relationship keep rushing back to the forefront of my mind—the man who strung me along, let me believe we were building something together, all while keeping another relationship in the background.

Those feelings that I thought I’d gotten over, of how small and stupid I felt when I found out.

How used he’d made me feel when I’d realized I was just an option when once again, I had thought I was his future.

This feels so much worse, though. Blake was supposed to be my forever—when I was just a payday to him.

My heart hurts, a constant stabbing pain in my chest that’s impossible to ignore as I drop onto the couch and continue to cry. I’m exhausted by my own grief after days of enduring this. My whole body aches at this point.

And because everything seems to be harder than it needs to be right now, there’s a knock at the door right after I settle on the couch.

I don’t even try to hide my groan, my dad has been trying to give me space, but it must finally be time for him to come check on me.

He keeps telling me he can handle the farm chores, but if I sit here for too long, wallowing in my sorrow with nothing to give me a sense of purpose, I don’t know if I’ll ever go back outside.

I’m scared I’ll lose myself completely in the despair I’m feeling.

I force myself to stand, grumbling the entire time I shuffle to the door, I really don’t want to have to pretend I’m better than I am in front of my dad.

It’s bad enough that Blake deceived me, but he’d won my dad over too.

I hate that he believed in us as much as I did, and that he’s now forced to have a front row seat to my heartbreak after seeing how happy I thought Blake and I were.

I open the door, trying to muster up the strength to fake a smile, but it’s not my dad.

It’s Blake.

What the hell is he doing here?

“Hey,” he says softly, gently, like he’s approaching a wounded animal and doesn’t want to be attacked.

I wipe my tears from my cheeks and try to pull myself together, though I know he’s already seen what state I’m in.

Whatever , I’m in this emotional state because he broke my heart.

I shouldn’t have to pretend like I’m okay when I’m not.

He can see just how much he broke me with his lies.

The thing I told him I hate more than anything.

“What are you doing here?” I finally manage to ask, wishing I sounded angrier.

“I had to see you, L. ”

I shake my head because I can’t do this right now. I’m so raw already, I can’t hear that he’s sorry, but he did what he had to do for his parents and their money.

“Blake, I can’t?—”

“No,” he interrupts. “Just, please, Liam. I need to get this out. Please let me explain before you decide you’re done with me.”

I remain silent, staring at him blankly.

He’s the one who did this, I didn’t decide anything.

But he looks determined, and I don’t think getting rid of him will be as easy as shutting the door in his face.

So, I resign myself to a few more minutes of torture in his company, to stare at the man I wanted to spend my life with.

I’d rather hear whatever excuse he’s come up with now, rip the Band-Aid off. Maybe it’ll give me some closure, rather than sitting here wallowing in my confusion over what really happened, letting the questions tear me apart.